- To reduce? - He has asked again just in case.
- Yes, - the editor resolutely has told, has slammed a folder and began to fasten tesemochki.
- On how many pages? - Stanislav has asked, already estimating that the episode with a GAZ car can be thrown out without
special losses.
- To two sheets, - the editor has told, stretching it a folder.
- That is? - The dumbfounded imagination has offered Stanislav's internal look result of such reduction: two pity leaflets of the
manuscript - the first and last.
- N-well, approximately to fifty pages.
In total in the manuscript was two hundred thirty three pages.
- ON fifty pages? - Stanislav just in case has asked.
- No. TO fifty. To leave fifty... - the editor has burst in new squall of illegible words - it seems, it proved that Stanislav has
written actually not the story, and not the novel, of course, and the story, and now it is necessary to bring the form into
accord with the maintenance. Besides, magazine at them thin, and they have no possibility... Stanislav has interrupted ego: -
I correctly understand: you want, that I have reduced this story to hundred eighty pages? Is not the story, - the editor tiredly
has told and is already quite legible. Is a story.
In the evening they with the Viscount have solved nalizatsja. The viscount drank, listened to complaints and prokljatja, itself -
kept mum, and then suddenly skazal: - You have forgotten the main thing.
- I have forgotten nothing, - Stanislav with threat has objected. - and never I will forget! - has forgotten. You have forgotten
that all... Or nearly so everything that at you is written - the truth. You have forgotten that all it has occurred to you. Not with
Joseph your invented, and with you. Personally.
Stanislav has stared at it and has suddenly understood.
- Yes, but I not Joseph, - have told it, crookedly grinning. - and I do not have Maria. At me - Lariska.
- Do not pretend to be the big donkey, than you are, - the Viscount has advised, accurately spilling spirit. - you perfectly
understand me.
- I do not pretend to be... - Stanislav slowly has spoken. - but I after all I and really do not know the mission. You think, to me
did not come to mind, what the novel - the novel, and my life is my life? But I cannot find anything in the life such, that... Yes I
also do not trust in it. Understand, same not the novel, I cannot invent such things from a head... It should be found out by
itself somehow... But there is nothing. It in my life is not present anything! - Ishshi, - has told the Viscount, as well as one year
ago. - Ishshi: should be! I am, my Stak, at strong suspicion that each person has a mission. At everyone! It is such hypothesis
at me. Some realise the mission - their names usually become then known to the whole world. Some - are mistaken in the
mission. Such we name grafomanami all grades. But the overwhelming majority mortal even does not suspect that they have
a mission. By it it is not submitted a sign! And here to you - the sign is submitted. You - a unique person. So - ishshi! There
should be something!.